


In These Nights

by kissuai



Series: All the Ways I Love You [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissuai/pseuds/kissuai
Summary: Adjusting to nights in Ferelden is harder for Dorian than it should be.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: All the Ways I Love You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094603
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	In These Nights

Dorian jolted awake, his pulse thick in his throat, sweat soaking through his back, a ringing in his ears as nausea wrenched at his stomach. Echoes of the past flooded behind his eyes: hoods in the dark. Low incantations. Enchanted bindings. His father’s hollow eyes. A blade, blood, flooding. His screams, his will - blood. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. A needle piercing through his skull. The smell of something  _ terribly wrong _ **_._ **

**Blood.**

Something rumbled beneath him. Something  _ spoke _ to him, rubbed circles on his back, along his arms. He couldn’t make out the words but the rhythm of them broke off from the chant.  _ Focus _ .

His eyes shifted: darkness, but not  _ there _ . Where? The ringing subsided, enough for him to make out syllables. A voice, familiar, secure, “Take a deep breath for me, big guy.”

His breathing was shallow - he shuddered but managed to swallow it down.

It was  _ a hand _ rubbing circles on him: large, missing two fingers, “That’s it, in and out.”

An earthy musk, one he knew - found - in the South, in Ferelden, in sheets, sweat, in...

_ Right _ . The Iron Bull. In patience and acceptance, he steadied. Different images flickered to mind: of decade old scars, of a leather brace, a single eye behind a tankard of ale. Of strong arms - power made soft for him. Of lips, and teeth, and tongue - of worship and tenderness, serenity amongst all the violence.

“You alright now?”

Dorian buried his face, hoping his pulse didn’t expose him, “Sorry, go back to sleep.”

The circles remained constant, “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

They remained like that, silent. Bull almost thought Dorian had fallen asleep again before he heard him murmuring an indirect gratitude, “You’re warm.”

He brushed his lips along Dorian’s hairline, slow and purposeful, “Yeah.”


End file.
